


Little Cub

by Coalmine301



Series: Whumptober 2020 [14]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Griffins, Minor Character Death, Parental Plo Koon, minor fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coalmine301/pseuds/Coalmine301
Summary: Obi-wan’s earliest memory was of destruction.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Plo Koon
Series: Whumptober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908538
Comments: 2
Kudos: 86





	Little Cub

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to write this one for so long and now I have the perfect opportunity. It’s finally griffin time, baby!
> 
> Written for the Whumptober alt prompt "Carry/Suport"

Obi-wan’s earliest memory was of destruction. The bounty hunters had finally found the little flock. With no other choice they fled as the aerie burned behind them.

His mother had desperately clutched him tight in powerful talons, the hen’s wings straining with every flap. But she pushed on, carrying what could have been her last surviving chick as she fled for safety.

Back then he hadn’t yet earned his name, simply called “Cub”. Too young to have a name of his own. Yet apparently not too young to see death and destruction first hand as griffins on all sides were struck down by the hunters’ fire sticks. 

His father had flown alongside them for a while. Then there was a sharp bang and the rooster was suddenly plummeting earthward with a cry of pain abruptly cut short. And through it all, even with the death of her mate, the hen flew on. 

By some miracle they had managed to find a narrow cave in the mountainside, a brief haven from the destruction outside. Cub found himself roughly dropped onto the stone before the hen crawled in beside him. It was a tight squeeze but at least they were both safe in there. Together.

In an instant he felt himself being checked over, his mother nudging him with her beak to make sure he was alright. Thankfully he was unharmed, understandably shaken from tonight’s horrors. 

They didn’t know where the hunters were now. They didn’t know where their flock had gone nor how many had survived. But if the two of them could make it through the night they could make it through the dawn as well. And so they huddled together, Cub wrapped in his mother’s comforting embrace.

It was only when the smell of blood didn’t disappear did Cub realize she’d been wounded. He let out a shrill of alarm, only to be quickly silenced as she tucked him against her downy chest. “Not a sound,” she churred and he blinked back in silent obedience. Tonight had taught him that noise, any noise, at the wrong time was deadly.

To this day Obi-wan still isn’t sure just how long they stayed like that. The exact time wasn’t important. His mother quickly grew weaker regardless, more and more wine colored lifeblood spilling across the cold cave floor. 

Eventually enough time had dragged on with no sound. The silence was maddening. Despite the risks Cub let out a tiny chirp just to hear something, anything. 

He immediately flinched, expecting a sharp scold. Nothing. His mother didn’t even react. 

Cautiously, Cub let out another chirp. Still no reaction.

Something was definitely wrong. 

With a distressed murr the young grifling turned to meet his mother's gaze. Calm blue eyes stared back. 

Unblinking.

She had simply been too wounded. Too much of her lifeblood now stained her son’s feathers. 

With a cry of denial Cub butted his cheek against ehrs. No reaction. He butted harder, her head only flopping back against the ground. Desperate now, he tugged on her ear, hoping that would get some kind of reaction. None came.

It was then the truth came to him with all the pain of an avalanche. His mother was gone.

And he was all alone now.

For a long while Cub simply sat there, reeling in shock and grief. 

Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt a presence behind him. Cub turned, baring his fangs in an effort to not appear afraid.

A humanoid figure stood in the mouth of the cave, towering over Cub. Yet this one carried no fire-stick. Instead of the hard beetle-like armour the hunters wore this one was draped in some kind of softer looking brown material. Instead of a mouth and eyes, the stranger wore some odd contraption over its face.

“Oh, little one,” a voice rumbled, the sound surprisingly comforting. 

And despite himself, Cub found his guard lowering at this new friendly face. The stranger took one step into the cave and Cub did not stop him. Nor did he warn against the next few strides carrying the stranger over to where Cub half-crouched.

The stranger's front legs were weird. Instead of ending in taloned bird legs or mighty lion paws they sprouted five peculiar, furless and slender toes. No, toes wasn’t quite right. But what else could he think to call them?

One stretched out and Cub’s curiosity as he nudged it with his beak to sniff it. The odd paw moved, its toes scratching right behind his small ears. And despite the horrors of this bloodstained night Cub found a purr rumbling in his throat.

He trusted this kind stranger. So he made no fuss as the biped gathered him in deceivingly strong arms. “It’s ok, little one. I’ve got you.”

And despite everything Cub believed him.


End file.
